What Horrors Wait for Me?
by Bearer of Christ
Summary: This is my interpretation of what happened at the end of The Phantom of the Opera in Christine's point of view.  Lorux Rating for intense situations.
1. Part One

**Hello one and all. I was planing on making this just a oneshot, but as I have nine pages and still haven't reached the end, I'm splitting it into two parts.**

**You will notice, that about 90% of the dialogue is Leroux's**. **That is because I want to keep this as close to the original as possible. There is only one part that is ALW, and that is the lullaby at the very beginning.**

**I hope that you all enjoy me interpretation of the ending of The Phantom of the Opera**.

**Disclaimer. I do not own anything ever!**

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><p>Darkness. That's all I can remember. Darkness and the soft sound of the water pulsating through my ears.<p>

I knew exactly where I was, and I knew how I had ended up there. I had been foolish in thinking that he would not take me. Oh, why had I ever played with the heart of the Demon-Angel? Did I not know what would become of me? Or did I secretly desire it? I do not recall. All I wish to do is sleep. Sleep and dream.

'_In sleep I sang to you_

_In dreams I came…'_

A sweet lullaby filled the cold damp air, and it became very difficult to hang on to consciousness.

'_This voice which called to you_

_And spoke your name._

_Now you must dream again_

_For now we hide_

_The Phantom and his Angel of Song;_

_Husband and bride'_

The cool sweet sound of the voice rushed over me like the breeze of the sea. It reminded me of my home in Sweden. Ah, to be there again.

That was when my mind drifted, and I remember no more for several hours.

The next thing I recall is sitting. Sitting on a bed in the Louis-Philippe style bedroom with the man I once called Angel standing before me. I noticed the bonds around my wrists and ankles and how they had already made my skin raw. I tried to pull free, but to no avail. I looked to Erik with pleading eyes, but he did not seem to notice my presence. He was saying something, but my head pounded so hard and I was moaning so loudly that I cannot bring up a single word he said.

He shouted, though, that much I know. His yelling was making my head ache worse than I thought I could bear and, as a result, tears of pain rolled from my eyes down my cheeks.

That was when he appeared at the hem of me skirt; kissing it and pleading, "Why do you cry? You know it gives me pain to see you cry!"

We both sat there, crying as lost children, he for my love and I for my freedom. Only one of us would get our wish that night.

Suddenly, there was a ringing, and the groveling man before me stood and left, as if answering the door for a friend. I knew that that would not be the case. His mind was on more sinister things I am sure.

Then, I heard it. The glorious sound of my love. I was so sure that I had been dreaming, but it called my name so clean and clear that it had to be real.

"Christine, Christine, it is I, Raoul!"

I was too petrified to speak a single word, not only out of surprise, but of fear that my darling would be discovered.

"But answer me, Christine!…In Heaven's name, if you are alone, answer me!"

My tongue came lose, and I whispered his name softly. I was shocked to find that he had heard me.

Raoul relayed to me that he and the Persian were trapped inside the torture chamber, and I informed them that there was no way I could save them. I was still tied to the posts of the bed. I remember now why I was bound so. I had tried to commit suicide earlier, but was caught in the act. My loving Angel constrained my arms and legs to keep me from committing such a thing again.

The Persian told me that I must convince Erik to let me go free so that I could get the key to the room and set the two captive men free. I knew just how to do this thing.

Erik was returning and I hushed the men. My greatest performance was about to begin.

The ghost entered with his death's head uncovered by his mask, and I could not have helped but let out a cry, for it frightened me so.

"I beg your pardon", the monster said coolly, "for letting you see a face like this! What a state I am in, am I not?" He sighed as he replaced the mask upon his face. Oh, what a euphoric sound could be made with his breaths. Even the pained sigh was like a tremendous and powerful song. It brought sorrow to my heart, but I knew I could not be distracted by the beauty of his voice.

"Why did you cry out, Christine?"

"Because I am in pain, Erik." I still cannot fathom how he believed such a mundane lie.

"I thought I had frightened you."

"Erik, unloose my bonds…Am I not your prisoner?"

"You will try kill yourself again."

"You have given me till eleven o'clock tomorrow evening, Erik." That statement had bought me my freedom. He quickly set me free, rambling on and on about something that I did not understand.

He led me to the music room and then he began to sing an play his organ. I knew then that that would be my sole change to take the key, for when he is in his music there is nothing else in the world, not even myself. I tried very hard not to be overcome by the requiem and grabbed the bag that held the key and hid it in my hand. I had gotten away with it…or so I thought.

Just as the Phantom was reaching to climax of the soulful piece he paused, his finger slipping on the ivory keys. The next words out of his mouth were my death sentence. "What have you done with my bag?" He stood from his place at the organ and took one menacing step forward, his death's head, by the look of his amber eyes, seemed to be on fire. "What have you done with my bag?" His voice was getting higher, harsher. "So it was to take my bag that you asked me to release you?"

I knew that if I did not do something that horrid things would have happened to me. So I ran. I ran harder than I ever had before. I tried to lock myself in the bedroom but he was very fast for his old age.

"What are you running away for?" he growled, grabbing for the bag that I clasped in my hand. "Give me back my bag, you will? Don't you know that it is the bag of life and death?"

I kept as far away from him as I could, and I found my body pressed against the wall. "Listen to me, Erik," I cooed to him, "As it is settled that we are to live together…what difference can it make to you?"

"You know there are only two keys in it," said he, fire burning in his amber orbs. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to look at this room which I have never seem and which you have always kept from me…it's a woman's curiosity!" I tried to keep my tone flirtatious, but I couldn't help a slight tremble at the sight of his rage.

He noticed my falter and replied, "I don't like curious women,"

_Then why do you keep me_ I couldn't help but think in his pause.

"And you had better remember the story of BLUE-BEARD and be careful…Come, give me my bag!" He lunged for me again, but I evaded his grasp. "Leave the key alone, will you, you inquisitive thing?" He then pinned me against the wall and wretched the bag from my fingers. His shove along with my pounding head and other sore parts was more then I could bear. He laughed at me as I cried out in pain.

I heard a great shout from the other room. It was Raoul! I beseeched him _hush!_ in my mind, but _he_ had heard.

"Why, what's that? Did you hear, Christine?"

"No, no," I denied, trying to distract him. "I heard nothing."

"I thought I heard a cry." He turned toward the wall, as if he could see right through it.

"A cry! Are you going mad, Erik? Whom do you expect to give a cry, in this house?…I cried out, because you hurt me! I heard nothing.'

He glanced my way, seeming remorseful at first, but his continence changed as his thought began it turn. "I don't like the way you said that!…You're trembling…You're quite excited…" I shook my head in denial. "You're lying!…That was a cry, there was a cry!…There is some one in the torture-chamber!…Ah, I understand now!"

"There's no one there, Erik!" I beseeched him.

He had not heard. "I understand!"

"No one!"

He still ignored my cries. "The man you want to marry perhaps!"

"I don't want to marry anybody, you know that I don't."

This caught his attention. He chuckled at me again, a laugh laced with poison. "Well, it won't take long to find out. Christine, my love," he said approaching me, "we need not open the door to see what is happening in the torture-chamber. Would you like to see? Would you like to see?" He held out for my hand, but I denied him once more. I did not dare touch him. "Look here! If there is some one, if there is really some one there, you will see the invisible window light up at the top, near the ceiling." He pointed upwards and I saw what he was describing. How had I not seen this before? "We need only draw the black curtain and put out the light in here. There, that's it...Let's put out the light! You're not afraid of the dark, when you're with your little husband!" At that he blew out the soul oil lamp that lit the room, and all was darkness.

"No!...I'm frightened!...I tell you, I'm afraid of the dark!" I cried out in anguish, though it wasn't the darkness that frightened me so. "... I don't care about that room now.…You're always frightening me, like a child, with your torture-chamber!...And so I became inquisitive. ...But I don't care about it now...not a bit...not a bit!" I tried to deter him. To get him to forget about the room and what lay beyond. And then I saw it, a light brimming from around the curtains edge. I was horrorstruck.

"I told you there was some one! Do you see the window now? The lighted window, right up there? The man behind the wall can't see it!" He made his way to a closet and pulled out a series of steps. "But you shall go up the folding steps: that is what they are there for!...You have often asked me to tell you; and now you know!...They are there to give a peep into the torture-chamber ...you inquisitive little thing!" He held his hand out once more.

I coiled away, keeping my arms crossed across my chest. "What tortures?...Who is being tortured?...Erik, Erik, say you are only trying to frighten me!...Say it, if you love me, Erik!...There are no tortures, are there?" I was so scared for my lover's fate. What shall become of him now? What could happen in to room adjacent to mine?

"Go and look in the little window, dear!"

I could feel myself swooning again. The world was spinning, and I stabilized myself against the wall. I had to keep my wits. I needed to save them from Erik and what ever tortures the room ensued.

"Go and peep through the little window!" He was growing impatient with me. "Tell me what it looks like!" He pushed the steps beneath the window and called to me again, "Up with you!...No!...No, I will go up myself, dear!"

That statement brought me back to my senses. I tried to be as clam as possible, so as not to startle him. "Oh, very well, I will go up." As I approached the steps grabbed hold of my elbow to help me up. I wretched it away shouting, "Let me go!"

He seemed hurt by my distance, but I didn't care. Who was he to think he could touch me? After putting me through so much turmoil? I didn't think so. "Oh, my darling, my darling!...How sweet of you!...How nice of you to save me the exertion at my age!...Tell me what he looks like!"

I glanced into the window and shouted down, "There's no one there, dear!"

"No one?…Are you sure there is no one?" He seemed skeptical of my response. I had to convince him.

"Why of course not…" I looked again, really looked. And I saw my Raoul and his companion. They could not see me, but I knew that they could hear. Oh, how I pleaded with God to let him see my face, just one last time, before this beast took me and hid me from the world forever. I began to feel faint again and a staggered a little on the steps.

"Well, that's all right!...What's the matter, Christine? You're not going to faint, are you...as there is no one there?…Here...come down..." He reached to help me from the steps, but I helped myself. I slowly made my way to a bench and sat myself down. "There!...Pull yourself together...as there is no one there!...But how do you like the landscape?"

"Oh, very much!" I fanned myself as we conversed. I felt heated and tired, but I needed to keep up my charade.

He brought the basin of water to me, and I dipped a rag in the cool water. After placing it on my flushed face I felt myself clamming. "There, that's better!...You're better now, are you not?... That's all right, you're better!...No excitement!...And what a funny house, isn't it, with landscapes like that in it?" Erik kneeled at my feet and fawned over me as much as I would let him. I still didn't want his cold, dead skin grazing mine.

"Yes, it's like the Musee Grevin.…" I recalled, thinking about the wax museum that I had visited once as a child. "But, say, Erik...there are no tortures in there!...What a fright you gave me!"

"Why…" he asked suspiciously, "as there is no one there?"

I had to distract him. Keep him from thinking about what could be in that room besides the architecture. I tried flattery again. "Did you design that room? It's very handsome. You're a great artist, Erik."

He became flustered at my words, and responded, "Yes, a great artist, in my own line."

That was better. Now, I had to get information from him without him knowing that I was. I needed Raoul to know exactly what could happen to him in there if he wasn't careful. "But tell me, Erik, why did you call that room the torture-chamber?"

"Oh, it's very simple. First of all, what did you see?"

I thought that that was a very odd question. Did he not know what was in the room that he built? "I saw a forest."

"And what's in a forest?"

Oh, this was silly! "Trees."

"And what is in a tree?"

My God, did this man really think me this dense? "Birds."

"Did you see any birds?"

I was growing very impatient with these questions. Why all this running around? "No, I did not see any birds."

"Well, what did you see? Think! You saw branches And what are the branches?" asked he as he stood and began pacing around the room. "There's a gibbet! That is why I call my wood the torture-chamber!...You see, it's all a joke. I never express myself like other people. But I am very tired of it!" And then he snapped. Ranting and raving about _his_ tortures. "...I'm sick and tired of having a forest and a torture-chamber in my house and of living like a mountebank, in a house with a false bottom!...I'm tired of it! I want to have a nice, quiet flat, with ordinary doors and windows and a wife inside it, like anybody else! A wife whom I could love and take out on Sundays and keep amused on week-days…" Erik strode toward me, and I recoiled again. He seemed downtrodden at my response, and so he tried to distract me. "Here, shall I show you some card-tricks? That will help us to pass a few minutes, while waiting for eleven o'clock to-morrow evening.…" At this I glanced at the clock sitting on the mantle. My eyes had come to adjust to the darkness, but it was still hard to see the exact time. Did I really have to wait that long to be released? Either into his arms or my death bed? 'My dear little Christine!...Are you listening to me?...Tell me you love me!" I didn't respond looking to my hands that were crossed upon my lap. "No, you don't love me...but no matter, you will!...Once, you could not look at my mask because you knew what was behind. ...And now you don't mind looking at it and you forget what is behind!...One can get used to everything...if one wishes." He was wrong about that. How could anyone ever forget or get used to what lay beyond his mask? "...Plenty of young people who did not care for each other before marriage have adored each other since! Oh, I don't know what I am talking about! But you would have lots of fun with me. For instance, I am the greatest ventriloquist that ever lived, I am the first ventriloquist in the world!" I laughed nervously. I did not like ventriloquism. It frightened me how one could throw their voice and have end up wherever they please. "...You're laughing... Perhaps you don't believe me? Listen."

He opened his mouth to begin his trick, but I had stop him. A voice in my head was telling me that the light in the window needed to be put out. "Put out the light in the little window!...Erik, do put out the light in the little window!"

He ignored my pleas. "Here, I raise my mask a little...Oh, only a little!... You see my lips, such lips as I have? They're not moving!...My mouth is closed-such mouth as I have-and yet you hear my voice." It was true. His lips were still and yet his voice was every where in the darkened room. "...Where will you have it? In your left ear?" I turned toward the sound, but nothing was there." "In your right ear?" I turned again, and still nothing. I was becoming freighted. "In the table? In those little ebony boxes on the mantelpiece?... Listen, dear, it's in the little box on the right of the mantelpiece: what does it say? `Shall I turn the scorpion?'...And now, crack! What does it say in the little box on the left? `Shall I turn the grasshopper?'...And now, crack! Here it is in the little leather bag...What does it say? `I am the little bag of life and death!'...And now, crack! It is in Carlotta's throat, in Carlotta's golden throat, in Carlotta's crystal throat, as I live! What does it say? It says, `It's I, Mr. Toad, it's I singing! I feel without alarm-co-ack-with its melody enwind me-co-ack!'" So, that was how it had happened. It was he who maid the diva's voice croak! What a clever trick this was. "... And now, crack! It is on a chair in the ghost's box and it says, `Madame Carlotta is singing to-night to bring the chandelier down!' ...And now, crack! Aha! Where is Erik's voice now? Listen, Christine, darling! Listen! It is behind the door of the torture-chamber! Listen! It's myself in the torture-chamber! And what do I say? I say, `Woe to them that have a nose, a real nose, and come to look round the torture-chamber! Aha, aha, aha!"

Through he spiel I began to sweat. Was it just me, or was the room actually getting hotter? "Erik! Erik! You tire me with your voice. Don't go on, Erik! Isn't it very hot here?"

"Oh, yes, the heat is unendurable!" said he, cackling still.

"But what does this mean?...The wall is really getting quite hot!" I stood and walked toward the heat, and placed my hand on the wall. I quickly took it back as a reaction to the temperature "...The wall is burning!"

"I'll tell you, Christine, dear: it is because of the forest next door."

He had confused me with this. "Well, what has that to do with it? The forest?"

"Why, didn't you see that it was an African forest?" He smiled, then chuckled, then let out the most furious laugh I have ever heard. He was mad! And then I realized, that he knew. He knew and he had known all along!

Oh God! My Raoul! My love! What was going to happen to him? He would burn! He would die of exhaustion! And there was nothing that I could do about it! The room span again, and this time I didn't try to stop it. My mind needed time to process. And so, I gave in to sweet nothingness.

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><p><strong>Reviews?<br>**


	2. Part Two

**Here is part two of my story. This part is just a tad bit longer than the first. I hope that you all enjoy it. I was thinking of doing a narrative of Christine burying the body, but that would have to be in a different story...tell me what you think! Also, thank you to my one reviewer! You're the best!  
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**I own NOTHING!**

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><p>I found myself laying upon the couch in the outer room. My head was no longer pounding, but I still felt exhausted. I sat up, and I saw him sitting on the adjacent chair "Ah,' said he, folding his hands together, "the diva awakes. Tell me, Madame, did you enjoy your sleep? For you have nearly dreamt away all of you time." I quickly turned to the grandfather clock against the wall and saw that I had all but fifteen minutes to make my life's decision. Hot tears filled my eyes as the dreaded hour ticked closer and closer with every passing second. My sorrow hurt him so, and his anger lashed at me. "So, the realization has come to you, has it? Are you unable to bear the thought of living out the rest of your days with one condemned? Well, what say you?"<p>

"Oh Erik, why must you be as you are? Can you not see my pain? Please, let me go free!" I pleaded with him.

"Never! Either I have you, or no one can! Not even your precious Vicomte!"

"Raoul! Please Erik, let me see him!"

"Not on your life, or should I say his?'

"I promise you my hand if I can just see his face!"

He paused then, seeming to consider my proposition. He stood and began to pace, his breathes getting shorter and louder. Finally he turned to me, ripping his mask from is face once more. His eyes seemed to shoot flames directly into my soul! He cackled as he spoke his threats. "I give you five minutes to spare your blushes! Here," Erik roared, taking a key from the little bag of life and death, "here is the little bronze key that opens the two ebony caskets on the mantelpiece in the Louis-Philippe room.

"…In one of te caskets, you will find a scorpion, in the other, a grasshopper, both very cleverly imitated in Japanese bronze: they will say yes or no for you. If you turn the scorpion round, that will mean to me, when I return, that you have said yes.

"The grasshopper will mean no." and he laughed so evilly that I shuttered as his tone.

"Erik, I beg you, give me the key to the torture-chamber! I shall give myself to you if only you let me set the men free!" I rose from the couch and fell upon my knees, pleading with him.

"There is no future need for that key. I shall throw it in the lake!"

"No! No, Erik, don't please!"

He laughed again and turned to leave me. He had just one last snarky remark before he departed. "The grasshopper! Be careful of the grasshopper! A grasshopper does not only turn: it hops! It hops! And it hops jolly high!" His maddened laughed faded as he strode away.

I stood and ran to the bedroom, desperate to hear my lovers voice. Just to hear that he was alive. I threw myself against the wall and knocked as I called his name, "Raoul! Raoul!" Tears were streaming now, as I heard his sweet tenor ringing through the barrier. "Oh my love! I feared that you were no more! Thank God I could hear you one last time!"

"Christine! Christine! Where has he gone? What happened to you? Tell us everything that he has said to you!" the Vicomte cried.

"What is the time now? What is the time, Christine?" The Persian questioned.

"It is eleven o'clock! Eleven o'clock, all but five minutes!"

"But which eleven o'clock?"

"The eleven o'clock that is to decide life or death!…He told me so just before he went…He is terrible!…He is quite mad! He did nothing but laugh! and I told them everything that I could remember. From the words, to the laughs, to the threats. Oh, ow horrible he was!'

"Christine," Raoul called, "if you turn the grasshopper the whole Opera will be blown to kingdom come! Christine, you must turn the scorpion at once!"

My heart hurt at his words. Was his decision really that quick? Was my life so dispensable to him? I would do as he asked, though. I would always do as he asked me to. So I stood and slowly walked the path of my fate.

"Christine," the Persian called again, "Where are you?"

"By the scorpion" I replied solemnly.

"Don't touch it!" he cried hastily. He didn't speak again for several seconds, but once more he said, "Don't touch the scorpion!"

I heard footsteps in the distance and was horrified. "Here he comes! I hear him! Here he is!" The Demon-Angel barged into the bedroom and approached me. He said nothing, but I could almost hear the thoughts buzzing in his mind.

Suddenly Raoul's companion spoke out again. "Erik! It is I! do you know me?"

A fiendish grin appeared on his face as he turned toward the voice. "So you are not dead in there? Well, then, see that you keep quiet." He paused his speaking for a moment, then continued, "Not a word, daroga, or I shall blow everything up." And he added, "The honor rests with mademoiselle…" Erik then turned back to me. I could see the impatience growing in his features. "Mademoiselle has not touched the scorpion mademoiselle has not touched the grasshopper, but it is not too late to do the right thing."

He hastened to the mantle and opened the little boxes. "There, I open the caskets without a key, for I am a trap-door lover and I open and shut what I please and as I please. I open the little ebony caskets: mademoiselle, look at the little dears inside. Aren't they pretty?" He gestured to the figurines and I noticed how finely they were crafted. I'm sure, though, that the creator did not know to what his art was intended. "If you turn the grasshopper, mademoiselle, we shall all be blown up. There is enough gun-powder under our feet to blow up a whole quarter of Paris." I was shocked at this revelation. This was something that he had not mentioned before. Oh woe! What was I to do? "If you turn the scorpion, mademoiselle, all that powder will be soaked and drowned. Mademoiselle, to celebrate our wedding, you shall make a very handsome present to a few hundred Parisians who are at this moment applauding a poor masterpiece of Meyerbeer's ... you shall make them a present of their lives ... For, with your own fair hands, you shall turn the scorpion ... And merrily, merrily, we will be married!" He paused, as if awaiting my answer, then continued, "If, in two minutes, mademoiselle, you have not turned the scorpion, I shall turn the grasshopper ... and the grasshopper, I tell you, HOPS JOLLY HIGH!"

And then he stood there, silent. I took those last few moments to go over my fate. Would I turn the grasshopper and seal the fate of not only myself, but the entire opera? Or would I sacrifice myself to the sting of the scorpion? Could I face these horrors to save the lives of the patrons? The dancers? The orchestra? Raoul? Raoul…I had to save him. Even if I were to spend one thousand years in the Phantom's vice like grip, I had to save Raoul. But, what if it were a trick? What if the figures did quite the opposite of what he had stated? What if-

"The two minutes are past ... Good-by, mademoiselle... Hop, grasshopper!" He reached for the grasshopper.

"Erik!" I screamed, stopping his hand, "do you swear to me, monster, do you swear to me that the scorpion is the one to turn?"

"Yes, to hop to our wedding."

I had caught him! "Ah, you see! You said, to hop!"

"At our wedding, ingenuous child! ... The scorpion opens the ball... But that will do! ... You won't have the scorpion? Then I turn the grasshopper!"

"Erik!"

"Enough!" he roared. Just as he placed his fingers on the figure I lunged forward.

"Erik! I have turned the scorpion!"

He seemed almost dumbfounded. Like he was really ready to blow up an entire block with all the people in it. I heard a strange noise from the other room, but could not discern what it exactly was. My whole world was coming down upon me. He now held my life in his hands. I was no longer my own. I was no longer Raoul's. I was his. I could resist him, try and fight him, but I knew it was all for naught, I was weak and confused and I needed to lay down.

As if reading my mind, my ghostly husband-to-be lead me to the outer room and helped me lay once more on the couch. I couldn't fight the weight of my lids. I had close them. Just for a few minutes.

I heard the sound again, small and soft. It sounded like…like…Raoul! I immediately stood and raced toward my betrothed. "Erik! Erik, please save him! Please! Erik I beg you!"

"You turned the scorpion, Christine, and, through that fact, of you own free will, become engaged to me! And you do not need to have two men engaged to you. What will he be to you now anyway!"

"Erik," I pleaded with him, looking directly into his yellow eyes, "I swear to you that, if you save them…" I paused, dreading my next words. "I shall be your wife. I swear on my father's soul that I will not try to kill myself. I will be a living bride for you."

And he stared at me for a long while. He looked mentally at war with himself. Suddenly, he turned and rushed to the bedroom. I was close behind, and I saw that he had turned the scorpion right way round, and was now preparing the bedroom. I very surprised at his hurriedness. "Go and boil some water." I was confused at this statement. Was it directed at me? Erik turned round and stated again, "Go and boil some water."

I did as I was told. I didn't want to raise his anger once more. It took me a minute to find the kitchen, and I made to sure to avoid the monster's bedroom. I bustled around for a bit. Gathering the kettle, filling it with fresh water, lighting the stove. After about twenty to kettle began to whistle. I took it off the flame and set it upon the counter. Tracing back my steps, I entered the Louis-Philippe room. There I saw the Persian laying upon the bed, looking half drowned. I turned and saw Raoul, my poor, sweet Raoul, laying upon the sofa. Erik was near, lighting the fireplace for the first time in a lifetime. As the wood burned I could feel the heat creeping into my skin. It felt nice.

"I thought I told you to boil so water."

"I did", I said, plainly.

"Well, bring it here! I didn't ask you to make it so that it could sit and get cold again." He put his back to me and I returned to the kitchen, fetched the kettle, and brought it back to the room.

As I was about too cross the threshold Erik stepped in front of me. "If you say one word to him, to any of them, I shall make sure that they are drowned properly this time! You are my betrothed, and I will not have the vicomte getting any more ideas about rescuing someone who is no longer his to have. Have I made myself clear?"

I was astonished by his command, but uttered a "yes" and continued my way in.

It was a full two hours before they began to stir. Raoul was the first to wake. I went to him, placed a cool cloth on his feverish forehead, gave him some tea, and watched as he fell back into a fitful sleep. All the while not letting one sound leave my lips.

The Persian finally rose. Erik saw his opened eyes before I did. ""Are you better, daroga? ... You are looking at my furniture? ... It is all that I have left of my poor unhappy mother." His words were confusing to me, but I brushed them aside. I came toward him with a cup of tea, but Erik stole it away from me. He poured a dark liquid into the cup and handed it to the man. Pointing at Raoul he said, "He came to himself long before we knew if you were still alive, daroga. He is quite well. He is asleep. We must not wake him." I stepped back, and Erik left the room fro a moment.

I wondered where he had run to, but the Persian called my name, so I quickly attended him. I felt his forehead and was relieved to find that his fever had finally broke. Satisfied by this, I sat myself back by the fire and picked up the little book that I had been reading to pass the time. I don't remember exactly what the book was, nor do I think that I actually comprehended anything that I read. My mind was across the room with Raoul. Calling to him. Wishing him to wake and take me away from this horrible place. I dared not look at him, for I knew, if I did, that I would start to cry.

Erik returned with a few medicine bottles which he placed by the mantle. He whispered to the conscious man "You are now saved, both of you. And soon I shall take you up to the surface of the earth, to please my wife." His wife. His wife. What had I done? Erik left again, and this time I did not wonder where he had gone.

The man called to me once more, but I didn't even raise my eyes from my book. I couldn't bear to even glance at him.

Erik entered again, mixed the Persian a drink and hissed at him "Do not speak to my wife. Or anyone else for that matter! It might be very dangerous to your health." After a few minutes the man slipped back into unconsciousness.

After several hours of silence Erik stood and began preparing for a journey. I tried to keep my mouth shut, for I didn't know if my tongue was to continue to be still. So I just watched him as he entered the room and left. Never saying a single word to me. He was calmer now than he had been in a long time. He almost seemed normal. Almost.

"I am taking them above, and, no," he said, reading my thoughts again, "you are not to come with me. You will stay here, hidden away. I don't want anyone to take you away from me! You are not to leave this room until my return. Do you understand?"

I simply nodded my head. "My love, you must say something to your unhappy husband. He needs your comfort for this long and perilous journey to the light. Please, say something Christine."

I could think of nothing but "Hurry back."

He first grabbed Raoul and lugged him off of the sofa and through the doorway. My eyes pricked with tears and I sent him a silent farewell. I knew that I would never see his boyish features again. I debated on writing a hurried note to my true love to give to the other sleeping man, but I had no time. Erik quickly returned, grabbed the Persian, and was gone.

After several minutes of nothingness I knew that he had left and would not be back for several hours. That is when I let all of my emotions loose. At first I cried. I cried and I wailed and I called "woe is me!" I wrote a letter to Raoul that I had hopped that Erik would deliver for me. I was a simple note stating that he was not to come looking for me ever again and that I loved him with all of my heart. I signed it and sealed it with wax, and then wept some more. After an hour of despair I lay myself upon the bed and let my mind wander until I had fallen asleep.

Sometime past before I awoke, but Erik still had not returned. I sat up from the comfort of the mattress and glanced at myself in the vanity mirror. I was shocked at my reflection. My hair was all in disarray and my face red and blotchy from my tears. My dress had become stained and wrinkled. This was no way for a lady to look, regardless of the company she's keeping. I stood and opened the wardrobe and found the same dresses that had been there those few months ago when he had stolen me away for the first time. Was it really that short of a time before this? It felt like years, ages since that night. I shook the past from my thoughts and picked a clean, pale blue dress to change into. Not knowing how long it would be until his return, I slipped behind the partition and stripped myself of the dirty brown frock and pulled on the new one. After that I moved to the vanity, where I washed my face in the basin and combed my hair as best I could. _'Well,' _I thought to myself, _'this is as good as he's going to get.'_

And then I heard his footsteps. I was startled by the suddenness of his return, but I knew that I could never show it. I turned and faced the door, waiting for his form to appear. He entered the room and seemed quite exhausted. He must have carried both men up to the surface by himself. His sickly frame could barely hold himself, I couldn't imagine him carrying another. I placed my hands in front of me and waited for him to say something. Anything. But he was silent. Just looking at me, and then walking toward me. I was unsure of his intent. And then I saw his lips start to pucker. A kiss! He wants to kiss me. Well, I would not have his lips on mine, but I did offer him my forehead. I could at least let him have that much, because he would not get any more.

And he kissed my head, soft and slow. He seemed to treasure every second of our contact. And, I realized, this was the first time I had ever willingly touched him. I hand never even laid a finger on him before now. And I wondered, how long had it been since he had any woman, and person touch him willingly?

And he…he was crying. Feeling his tears fall down my face sent me over the edge. What had I done to this pitiful creature? He had been my friend, my protector. He had been my guide ever since my father's passing. And how had I treated him? With distain, and horror, and through my fear I had learned to hate him. And all he wanted, all he ever wanted was affection from me. Maybe not love, not at first, but he needed that connection from me and I had taken that away from him. Was I the cause of his madness? Oh, what had I done? He feel to the floor and began to kiss my feet. I couldn't bear his pain any longer. I had thought that I had spent all my tears, but it was apparent I still had them to shed. I did not wipe away the flow. I just let it fall upon him and he seemed to savor them. He tasted them on his lips and ripped his mask away so as to catch them all. I did not run. I knew that he needed me now, more than I had ever needed him. I let him stay at my feet until I could hold my words no longer. I felt the sorrow in my throat as I spoke. "Poor, unhappy Erik." I kneeled down, took his hand, and laced our fingers together as far as he would let me.

He froze at my touch and gawked at me for a moment or two. He seem shocked that I would treat him so. I felt him press something into my palm. "There!...Take it!…" And I realized that the item in my hand was familiar. It was the ring that he had given me those months ago. Why was he giving me this now? Was I to wear it for him? "Take it for you...and him!... It shall be my wedding-present a present from your poor, unhappy Erik...I know you love the boy...don't cry any more!"

"I don't understand? What do you mean?"

"Christine…Oh, Christine…I am a dog…A dog at your feet. I would die for you!…And you…You are here with you poor Erik. Erik never wanted you to cry. He only wanted you alive and with him…And here you are. Oh, Christine" he moaned. I heard the deep despair in his tone, and I couldn't help but cry more. He was a poor unhappy soul. Oh, poor Erik. "Christine…You may marry him. You can be _his_ bride, because you became my living bride. Your tears mixed with mine and…Oh, Christine! I shall get him! I will bring him to you! Do not leave! Stay here and I will bring the boy to you." And he stood and walked out once more.

I was reeling. Was I understanding him correctly. Was he going to let me go? After all of this…after all the struggle…I was free? Oh, happy day! What a glorious turn of fate! God had finally smiled down on me. In my celebration I had lifted my hands to the heavens. I opened my clenched fist and felt something leave it. The ring! I watched as it fell from the sky and onto the comforter on the bed. Thank the Lord, for I didn't know what would happen if I had lost it a second time.

I picked up the ring and looked it over, remembering its every curve. It was a simple thing. Just a band. Nothing else. But it represented so much more. It was a time that I would never forget. A friend that I always had. A life I could have had…I went over to the vanity and opened one of the many jewelry boxes that lay on top of it. I removed a simple chain, slipped the ring on to it, and put the chain around my neck. I told Erik that I would keep this ring, and, for once, I would keep my promise.

I heard footsteps, more than one set this time, and my heart leapt! How did he retrieve Raoul so quickly? It mattered not! For there he was, standing in the doorway. Looking tired and worn. There he was, walking toward me and holding me in his arms. This was no dream. He was here. With me. I could not hold my love for him. I tilted my head up and allowed him to kiss me. Deeply. Passionately. Oh, Raoul!

Our lips parted and I caught Erik's form out of the corner of my eye. He was weeping still, and I knew how much it must have pained him to see us locked in such an embrace. I removed myself from Raoul's arms and walked slowly to my fallen Angel. He became nervous and stiffened, and I tried to reassure him, silently, that I meant him no harm.

"Christine…" he glanced at the chain and followed it down to the ring. His eyes overflowed and he could not hold himself up. He had to lean against the door frame. I reached for him, but he waved my hands away. "Christine…you must promise…swear to me that you will return to me. Come back, one night, when I am dead. Cross the lake from the Rue-Scribe side, and bury me in secret with the gold ring. Please, promise that you will wear it until that moment! Until you find me laying by the little well which you have seen when I first brought you down to my own personal Hell. Christine…Promise me!"

I could not deny him. Regardless of all that had happened this night, he was still my friend. I promised him. Then, I took his death's head in my hands and kissed him on his forehead to symbolize the truth to my promise. He wept once more and ordered us to go. "I will leave some things here, for you to remember me by."

"I shall never forget you Christine. Nothing could make me forget. Now go!" I took the pair of gloves that I had been wearing and placed in on the desk. And then I took the buckle off of my shoe and the handkerchiefs out of my pockets. Lastly, I placed the letter that I had written for Raoul next to the small pile. "These are all for you."

"Go…"

"But Erik…"

"GO!" Raoul took my hand and led me out the door and to the lake. We climbed into the gondola and he rowed us away. I turned back to see if I could catch one last look at Erik, and there he was, his eyes longing for my return. But I would never go back to him while he lived. I knew that much. I would never see my Erik's living breathing from ever again.

Those next few weeks were a whirlwind, As quickly as we could we raced to the surface. Even the light of the full moon was bright and almost unbearable to my eyes. I understood now why Erik refused to leave the sanctity of the Opera House after so many years underground. We found the nearest church, woke the priest, and had him marry us immediately. The holy man had wondered about our urgency, but I had no heart to tell him the truth.

After our hasty marriage we gathered my god-mother, Mamma Valerius, boarded a train and took it as far away as we could. We ended up in Saarbrucken and we stayed there for a month until I received word that Erik's death had been announced in the Epoque. Raoul tried to convince me that he should accompany me on my journey, but I had to make it alone. I boarded a train back to Paris and have not returned since. I still have one more duty to my Angel. I have to make my way down past the Rue-Scribe entrance, down past the Opera House, and down those five cellars. I must find his body laying by the well and dig his grave. I must roll his body into the grave. But, most importantly, I must give up my little ring and bestow it on his wedding finger. I don't know how I will bear seeing his empty form. Will he be an true Angel now? Or has he been condemned for his madness even further into Hell? Oh, God give me strength to fulfill my promise, and to rise back into the light where my life belongs.

Christine completed her writing and stared onto the page. The weight on her shoulders lifted a little. It had felt good to put her thoughts to paper. She left the hotel room and didn't return for three days. One can only assume that she had spent that time weeping over her Angel.

The skeleton was found lying near the little well, in the place where the Angel of Music first held Christine Daae fainting in his trembling arms, on the night when he carried her down to the cellars of the opera-house.

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